Embers
by Legal Assasin
Summary: From the viewpoint of a templar before and during the "Broken Circle" quest for the Asunder writing contest.


**Title: **"Embers"

**Author: **Legal Assasin

**Summary: **_If mages aren't guarded, they are killed. By protecting them, we give them a chance to live. This was what lead me on this path._

**Disclaimer: **Why would I write DA fanfiction if I owned it?

**Before I begin…** Fail summary.

Anyways, this is for the Asunder writing contest hosted on the Bioware forums. I decided to write in the POV of a templar for this piece, and he'll be a familiar face if you've played through "Broken Circle."

Read on!

_**==+O+==**_

For me, becoming a Templar is about protecting people.

Not just the mundane, everyday folk of Ferelden. If that were the case, I would have become a guard in Denerim. Only need to worry about thugs and unruly mercenaries there, as my mother so kindly pointed out to me when I told her I was joining the Order. A last effort to persuade me from leaving her and father which failed.

The Templars were established to guard the mages and ensure none turn to demons or unholy blood magic and bring harm to those around them as well as themselves. But I also believe that by guarding them, they have a chance to live. If no one did, the Chantry would surely have them all killed. Even if it's a closed, sheltered life, it is better than being struck down as a child; I shudder when my mind conjures that image.

Oswald, a friend from childhood, and I were been assigned to Kinloch Hold, more widely known as the Circle of Magi in Ferelden. We joked about being surrounded by potential fire hazards from misfired spells and how long it would take before someone got turned into a toad (becoming a Templar doesn't mean we lose our sense of humor) while traveling and one of the others glared at the two of us for not taking our task seriously enough (becoming a Templar doesn't mean we are guaranteed a sense of humor either).

Two months after our arrival and among the sea of faces filling the tower there are three other than Oswald's that stand out to me as I've never been good at remembering faces and names. Knight-Commander Greagoir, of course, with his stern demeanor (stern being the nicest word I can use). First Enchanter Irving, who is more like someone's grandfather. And Cullen, one of the other recruits whom I pity when I hear about how he acts around one of the female mages, the Amell girl. Other than them, I can't link the names I hear with the faces I see.

I still need to get used to this place.

"I hear they finally caught that mage who escaped last week."

Oswald mentions to me while we are watching the hallway. Watching the mages isn't as eventful as we were led to believe; it's really just… well… watching. And standing around looking intimidating, can't forget that; it's the most important part.

"The one who swam across the lake?"

"Yes, that one. I have to admit he's not one to give up easily. How many times does this make it?"

The fact he made more than one attempt still surprises me. I know that not all the mages agreed with the Circle, but I didn't think they would find it so horrible. They should at least realize there is no better alternative.

Oh, right. Still need to reply to Oswald.

I shrug in response to his question. "I don't keep track of one person's escape attempts."

"Like you can't keep track of names?" Oswald asks, grinning. "I never knew that Leora and Katrina looked so alike. What with one being older than the other and one being an elf and neither of them in the same—"

"You made your point." I grumble. He only laughs.

I stand to the side of the Harrowing chamber while waiting for the apprentice to be brought up. Tonight, she will enter the Fade and face a demon lurking there. Success will promote them to a full-fledged mage of the Circle, failure will mean possession and death.

What's more, a Blight is approaching Ferelden. Mages have already answered King Cailan's call for aid against the Darkspawn. I don't think I'll be able to rest easy, or easier as we're supposed to always be on guard, until it is ended.

But that's not all that's weighing on my mind.

The apprentice, barely a woman, enters the room. She is still bewildered from the lack of warning as it goes for all apprentices but still manages to listen while her task is explained to her.

Cullen stands not too far away, watching nervously. He had been assigned to deliver the killing blow should he fail. I see his lips move in silent prayer and realize why. That makes another face and name to remember.

I recall a conversation I overheard between two of the other Templars. "Lucky bastard," one of them called Cullen. "Hope I get the next one."

The way they spoke disturbed me. Yes, killing malificarum and abominations was our duty, but it wasn't something that should be enjoyed. We were here to protect others from mages and mages from themselves. That was why we were here.

I turn my attention back to the apprentice.

She has little trouble in the Harrowing, aided either by her own skill or the Maker's guiding hand called down by an unspoken plead. Maybe both.

"I can't believe this."

Oswald has been saying that again and again since the incident. One of the apprentices suspected of practicing blood magic, Jowan, managed to escape from the tower. What's more, he also destroyed his phylactery beforehand, making it difficult to track down.

The Knight-Commander was still seething when I last saw him. Not just because of the escape but because one of Jowan's accomplices, Amell, was taken in by the Grey Warden visiting the tower rather than face punishment for aiding a blood mage. Having his authority challenged like that did little to improve his mood, naturally.

I still can't get this newest escape out of my mind. This makes two who found life in the circle unbearable enough to run or even resort to the forbidden. And there are others who, while not resorting to such drastic measures, voice their objections either in whispers or shouts.

We're here to protect them, to give them a chance to live.

… and yet …

"_Lucky bastard. Hope I get the next one."_

Those awful words repeat in my mind.

Perhaps it was because of those who merely saw them as a possible threat or even prey. I can't repress the shudder that goes through me when I use that word, but no other one will suffice. If that is the case…

"Reagan?"

Oswald's voice interrupts my thoughts. My body jerks instinctively, then I turn to face him. One eyebrow is raised.

"Are you alright?"

"I got hit by blood magic and you ask if I'm alright?" I try to joke.

Now it's his turn to jerk away. That… didn't go as well as I thought. He probably took it as a snappy remark. Shit; I shouldn't have tried to make humor out of that.

Before I can even attempt to apologize, he walks away. It takes a day for us to reconcile.

Chaos surrounds us.

I'm still not completely sure what caused it; only that most of the mages have turned or are turning into abominations. No matter how many we defeat, there always seems to be more coming our way.

Somewhere behind me, I hear the Knight-Commander call for a retreat. I start to follow the other Templars when I realize that a few of our own are missing; including Cullen and Oswald.

I ignore the order and go on ahead, calling for them.

An explosion behind me – most likely an abomination's corpse – nearly knocks me off my feet. I manage to right myself and continue forward.

Cullen, Oswald; where are you?

I catch a glimpse of fighting not far ahead. An abomination and a demon of Rage are cornering one very familiar person.

"Oswald! We have to retreat!" I call out to him.

He shoots a quick glance in my direction, not able to spare more.

"I'd love to do that, but I'm a little preoccupied at the moment!"

Just as he's finishing the sentence, I rush forward and bash the abomination in the head with my shield, knocking it backwards. While he continues fighting the demon, I'm going to take care of this one.

It's already regained its balance and is coming at me again. The attack is blocked by my shield and I force it back before I cut into its side. My blade doesn't go as deep as I intended, causing only a minor injury. I advance forward and strike again, this time stabbing it through the heart. Before it can explode, I hastily step back.

"AAAAAHHHHH!"

Oswald lets out a scream of pain behind me. Without having to worry about being attacked from behind, I turn in the direction my friend is. Right away, I notice that his armor is red in color and is radiating heat.

Maker, he was getting boiled alive in his own armor.

"Oswald!"

The only response to my call was a choked sob.

I turn my attention to the demon responsible for his suffering. My grip on my sword and shield tightens. I feel my heart pound against my chest. This… this thing hurt my friend.

It will pay.

I charge forward, an angry cry tearing from my throat.

"**You challenge me with rage, mortal?"**

Suddenly, I feel my body burst into flames. My anger quickly gives way to panic and pain. I desperately try to pat the flames out, but they only intensify. The heated metal of my armor sears my skin, adding to the agony. Over the sound of a man's frightened screams – which I soon realize are my own – is the demon's laughter.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

I don't know how much time has passed, maybe ages, when I hear someone – or something, as the voice doesn't sound human at all – speak.

"**Do you know who is to blame?"**

"Go away…" I mutter. My instincts tell me it's a demon; I mustn't listen to it.

"**Your friend is dead, creature. You know who is responsible!"**

"I will not listen to you, demon!" I shout back. "Take your lies elsewhere!"

"**Why should Rhagos lie? The truth is more effective."**

"I said leave me!"

"**If only they wouldn't resist. Then you wouldn't be here."**

No retort leaves my lips. I realize with horror that it's right.

Oswald is dead. I'm in agony. All because the mages refuse to live under our protection. Whenever they rebel, others suffer for it. Even those who are content with their lives are eventually dragged into this madness.

They are to blame for all of this.

I feel the rage burning inside me just like the flames on my body. Somehow, it hurts worse. Consumes me from the inside.

No! I have to control it! I can't let it do anymore damage!

Must control it.

Must control it.

"**One of them is in the room now. Make sure they don't get to me. Or they'll get to Sloth."**

The flames inside me grow stronger. They call out for me to unleash them, to burn the invader until there is nothing left but ashes.

It hurts.

I see a figure, but the pain makes it hard for me to concentrate. The flames rapidly consume what is left of my conscience. All that occupies my mind are three words.

Mage. Hurts. Kill.

They must die!

Letting out a battle cry, I lunge at the enemy and swing my sword at them. It only grazes their shoulder, but I don't care. I'll just strike again. Strike again and again until I cut them down, then burn them until there's nothing left but—no, until there aren't even ashes left!

I feel a blast of cold in my face, but it's not enough to get rid of the flames. Oh no, nearly enough! I swing at them again and again, not caring anymore if I hit air or flesh. They will fall and burn! Fall and—

A powerful, freezing blast covers my body and dulls the flames. The pain lessens and in that brief moment I take control of my anger and force it and the flames down.

My rage fades away. The pain fades away.

I am now free of both.

Now I can see the person before me; it is Amell. What is she doing here?

Then, when I see my surroundings, I realize something is wrong. This was not the part of the tower I was in before being consumed by flames. And there is something odd about it, something that makes it seem more… ethereal.

The Fade? How did I get here? Was it that demon, Rhagos's, doing? Or the other one, Sloth? From the way it spoke, Sloth must be the one behind this. So Rhagos must be guarding him.

I felt my head grow lighter and my eyelids heavier. I would not be able to stop them in my present condition. Actually, I'm sure I'm going to die soon.

But Amell could stop them. She might need help, though.

I give her the flames that once caused me such agony, the ones Rhagos kindled, as well as last words of advice. Then I watched her leave and continue on her way to stop Sloth and free the others.

Before I die, I say one last prayer to the Maker. Forgiveness for my weakness, a blessing for Amell, peace for Oswald.

Salvation for us all.

_**==+O+==**_

Yup, that's about it.

Feedback would be nice.


End file.
